


Of Hart and Home

by Prodigalsan



Series: Old Men in Lurrrrve [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Eggsy and Harry in their fifties, Eggsy is a Grumpy Old Man, Exes, Harry Hart and Eggsy Unwin are the Same Age, Harry Hart is a Little Shit, Jealousy, M/M, Roommates, fight me, self-indulgent af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-06-27 20:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigalsan/pseuds/Prodigalsan
Summary: “It was a fucking gas leak. Fuckinggas,” Eggsy said tiredly, lifting his Peppa Pig jumper to wipe his clammy hands. “Am not in any danger. I’ll even sleep in Fitting Room Three. Ain’t like I never slept in a room that small.”“I’m afraid we can’t risk it. Risk you. You will be staying at my home indefinitely until we can outfit your new home.”“Is that an order, sir?”The warmth in Hart’s smile faded a bit, and Eggsy felt like he was standing over the wreckage of his old home all over again. “I’m afraid so.”--(Same Age AU) Eggsy's home of sixteen years inconveniently explodes, and now he has to stay at Harry Hart's house until he gets a new one. It wouldn't really be a problem if Harry wasn't his boss. Or his fucking ex. Welp.





	1. It Was Just Gas, Swear Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm suffering from writer's block for my ongoing fics, so _obviously_ , I have to write another ongoing fic to get rid of the block. Makes sense, right?
> 
> Anyway, this is actually a pretty fun idea, because we need more old men!Hartwin <3 I have a few other ideas for this series in mind, so I hope you look forward to it!

Of all the catastrophic events that could have happened on Unwin Movie Marathon Night, the flat at Cerney Mews blowing up to smithereens was something Eggsy, despite being a seasoned Kingsman agent for almost twenty years, did _not_ expect—and certainly not because of a fucking gas leak. He didn’t even know where the gas pipes in his flat even _were_ before tonight, much less where any leaks could appear, if they would. 

Any effort to acquaint himself with any pipes would be moot, however, as Eggsy now found himself very much lacking those very pipes. His home for the last sixteen years was now a horrid, ghoulish skeleton of its former self.

(He could just _imagine_ Hart coming out of the bushes all-nonchalant-like, fit as all living hell in his suit, propping Rainmaker like a cane and quoting Ernest fucking Hemingway as he stared dramatic-like at what remained of Eggsy’s home. Well, Hart could just shove his brolly up his privileged arsehole because Eggsy didn’t fucking _care_. Fucktard.)

He sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair—already disheveled from his sprint from Michelle’s own home just a few blocks away. He supposed he should call his sister-in-law and explain why the fuck he ran out like a madman, because it wasn’t like she cooked dinner or anything. But before that, he had to make a call to Merlin.

 _“Eggsy!”_ cried a panicked, deep brogue at the end of the comms in his glasses. _“I was just about to contact you. Your flat—“_

“Is just a pile o’ rubble now, yeah, I noticed,” Eggsy said flatly, sighing as he kicked at what remained of his front door. His lower lip wobbled. He fucking _loved_ that quirky, bright orange door. “I got the warning from me glasses about a gas leak. Didn’t make it in time.”

 _“A fucking gas leak? Are you serious?”_ Merlin asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Well, it ain’t from a fuckin’ missile, that’s for sure. I figure I would’a noticed one headin’ to me house, don’tcha think?” Eggsy bit back. Honestly, he would have preferred the missile. At least it meant Eggsy could take out his frustrations on some faceless maniac who thought of blowing Eggsy’s house up for some shits and giggles.

For this, though? He probably only had himself to blame. Fucking gas leak, the  _fuck_.

 _“Only you, Eggsy. Only you.”_ Merlin sighed on the other line, and Eggsy could just _see_ him rubbing his temples. Eggsy felt himself bristle; it’s not like he wanted any of this to happen! What wanker would?  _“Very well. We’ll set you up with another home in the area, though it might take time to equip it with Kingsman-standard security and tech.”_  

Eggsy frowned as he heard the clacking of keys. “Ain’t there one available now, though?”

 _“Afraid not. Though in the future we can endeavor to avoid any more oversights.”_  The line was filled with the clacking of keys for a few moments. Then, _“come to the shop. I’m sure you can stay at HQ for tonight.”_

Eggsy sighed, nodding. He assumed as much. “Right. I’ll get a cab to pick me up.”

_“And I’ll have a room prepared for you when you arrive.”_

“All right. Cheers, Merl.”

The line went dead, and Eggsy took off his glasses and stepped on a block of concrete, staring at the rubble with dismay and rage burning in his eyes. His eyes wandered a little to the right, and he walked towards a pile of rubble where the edge of a book was crushed under the debris. He pushed blocks of concrete away and dug out the book, and opened it to the first page where pictures of pugs and suits and laughing men with glittering eyes sat in plastic pockets. Or, at least, that’s what would’ve been there, if the pictures weren’t blacked out and burnt.

When the cab arrived to take him to the shop, he said goodbye to his former home one last time; the burnt photo album on his lap as he drove away.

* * *

“Are you sure it was a gas leak?” Merlin asked when he arrived at the shop, pausing for a moment at the state Eggsy came in. The agent noticed his staring and shrugged, tucking the photo album under his arm and pocketing his hands.

“Movie Night at Michelle’s,” was all Eggsy offered. “Daisy thought it would be nice if I wore the jumper she got me for me birthday last year.”

“I see,” Merlin said, his lips quirking up at the Peppa Pig jumper. He cleared his throat and led Eggsy further into the store, presumably to HQ. “But, again, are you positive that the explosion was caused by a gas leak?”

“That’s what the alert in me glasses said. I honestly didn’t pay too much attention; was kinda desperate to save me house, ya feel me?”

“That was risky, Eggsy. The alert could have been a trap, for all you know,” Merlin reprimanded. He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. It was decided that whatever caused the explosion is going to be investigated by Kingsman, as these things don’t usually happen and aren’t taken very lightly. Your past missions will most likely be brought up in a meeting or two, as well. You could have been sabotaged by a former mark, and we’re not taking any risks here.”

Eggsy nodded, understanding the logic, though he frowned at the thought of having to be the subject of a meeting, especially if it meant being questioned by their illustrious  _Arthur_. He could feel his skin crawling at the very thought. Fuck that.

When Merlin began to ascend the stairs, Eggsy blinked at the man’s back and asked, “oi, where we goin’? The lift to the shuttle’s over there, last time I checked.”

Merlin sighed. “Aye. But we’re not going to HQ. If it’s indeed possible that your home was destroyed by a former mark, letting you stay in HQ is out of the question. There are safety issues involved, and we cannot risk the rest of the agency.”

“So I’m a liability then?” Eggsy snarled, footsteps echoing as he stomped up to the second floor. “I dunno where you’s been the last ninteen years, but I remember putting my fucking life constantly on the line for this organization. The least Kingsman could do is give me benefit of the doubt! Jesus!”

“Relax, Eggsy. You’re not being chased out of Kingsman, for fuck’s sake,” Merlin said, glaring at him over his shoulder. “You’re just going to live somewhere else for a time. Somewhere with just as much security, with far less repercussions if anything goes to shite.”

Eggsy squinted, the crow’s feet around his eyes becoming more pronounced. “What you on about, Merl?”

Instead of answering, Merlin opened the double doors to the dining room and walked in, fingers tapping on the clipboard with practiced speed and ease. Eggsy would have followed him in, if not for the figure sitting at the head of the table: posture elegantly straight, hair perfectly coifed, and brown eyes warm and friendly.

The photo album fell to the floor with an audible _fwp_. “Oh, no _fucking_ way.”

“Gareth,” greeted _Harry fucking Hart_ , a warm smile perched on his ridiculously perfect, punchable face. “ _Eggsy_. I’m glad you made it.”

“Is this a joke?” Eggsy turned to Merlin, not even acknowledging the man at the table. The handler’s eyes gave him an answer, though not the one Eggsy wanted. “You can’t be serious. I’m going to live with _him_?”

Hart’s smile vanished as it was replaced with a small frown. “You don’t have to be so offended, Eggsy. I assure you, despite our rocky history, I can be a perfectly well-behaved roommate.”

Well-behaved roommate, he said. _Rocky history_ , he said! If there was anyone Eggsy could bet on to win the Understatement of the Year award, it would be Harry fucking Hart. But then again, the fucking arsehole would be given an award for anything! Perfect bastard that he was.

“You said I couldn’t stay at HQ ‘cause of safety issues,” Eggsy said to Merlin, once again ignoring Hart who, by this point, was getting annoyed with the brush-offs. But Eggsy didn’t care, because if you asked him, Hart wasn’t even _in_ the room. “If that’s the case, why the bloody fuck am I staying with _Arthur_ , of all people? Ain’t that… I dunno, kinda daft? He’s the head of the fucking agency!”

“That’s what _I_ said,” Merlin said, voice raised slightly in volume, as if to lord it over a certain somebody. Then he sighed and added, “but upon inspection of the mansion, I realized that, aside from the bunkers for recruits, HQ isn’t particularly outfitted for decent habitation. It would take at least a day to get you the things you need to _really_ get settled, as the things you need aren’t available at this time of night.”

Eggsy’s jaw fell. “You’s joshing. Kingsman can hack into government files around the world, fake deaths, find the most elusive of the fucking elusive… but it can’t help us shop at Harrods past nine p.m.? What the actual fuck?”

Eggsy could have sworn he heard a quiet scoff and a muttered, _Harrods_. But as Merlin was _obviously_ the only person in the room, Eggsy figured he was just going senile in his old age and imagining things. He certainly didn’t notice anyone standing up from their seat and walking over to him, nor did he detect a hint of black cedar wood and juniper wafting through the air. His frown fell as he turned his head _slightly_ to the left. Fuck, that smelled fucking _fantastic_ , actually, what the _fuck_.

“Using Kingsman resources to procure you a temporary living space when one is already _available_ is a waste,” came Not-Hart’s reply, which Eggsy knew for a fact he imagined just now. “I have two bedrooms that are perfectly suitable for you. You can choose either. There is a bath in the hall across the second largest room, as well as a fully-stocked pantry and kitchen that I’m sure will more than meet your everyday standards. But, I suppose, you are already aware of that. Considering.”

Eggsy scowled. Even in his imagination, Harry Hart was a condescending little shit. Well, fuck you, too, Not-Hart! 

“Merlin, come on. Can’t I just stay at a hotel, or summat? I can pay for it and everythin’,” Eggsy pleaded. Merlin looked like he was about to relent, but the very-much-nonexistent figure behind Eggsy turned him around before the head handler could even reply.

“Whether it’s Kingsman resources or yours, that still qualifies as a waste. You’ll be staying with me,” Hart said—for it _really_ was Hart standing there, no matter how much Eggsy willed it not to be. His brown eyes softened as he added, “the explosion at your home cannot be ignored, and as such Kingsman cannot risk your safety. My home was removed from official records as of my coronation, so rest assured, no possible threat would be able to find you.”

“It was a fucking gas leak. Fucking _gas_ , swear down,” Eggsy said tiredly, lifting his Peppa Pig jumper to wipe his clammy hands. “Am not in any danger. I’ll even sleep in Fitting Room Three. Ain’t like I never slept in a room that small.”

“Gareth,” Merlin said in warning.

Eggsy raised his hands in the air. “What! You saw my apartment twenty-one years ago! You could barely fit Arthur’s ego in there!”

“ _Eggsy_ ,” Hart chided, though it lacked any real heat. In fact, a small, but warm smile played on his lips, causing Eggsy to freeze and just _stare_. “I’m afraid we can’t risk it. Risk _you_. You will be staying at my home indefinitely until we can outfit your new home.”

“Is that an order, sir?” Eggsy asked, eyes lifting to meet Hart’s for the first time that night. They truly were brown, weren’t they? The very _brownest._ And Eggsy saw firsthand how they looked under the touch of the sunbeam, glittering and bright and…

The warmth in Hart’s smile faded a bit, and Eggsy felt like he was standing over the wreckage of his old home all over again. “I’m afraid so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short first chapter, but the next ones are longer! Thanks for taking the time to read. Will post the next chapter up soon. This will be fairly fast and short.


	2. What's with All the Fucking Ghosts

_December 19, 1997_

_Today had been rather strange, Eggsy reflected. Not only did he wake up later than usual, causing him to be late for work at the coffee shop, but throughout the day he couldn’t just shake off the feeling that something… terrible was happening. He would have brushed it off as just having a bad day in general, but Eggsy had sort-of a talent for these things. ESP, Lee would say to tease him, and it was always good for a laugh until something really bad did happen._

_But the day went by without anything happening, so Eggsy just brushed it off as paranoia. He was always on edge, being what he was. Even though being gay was_ technically _not illegal anymore (and hadn’t been for thirty years), people still acted smart about that shite and Eggsy tended to be a little… defensive. And no one could blame him either, when they find out where he had grown up, and all._

_“Not everyone’s lookin’ at you ‘cause they know, bruv,” Lee would tell him after he successfully wrangled Eggsy out of being rough with someone giving him the stink-eye. “And even if they did, so what? You know it don’t matter what they say, yeah?”_

_Sometimes, Eggsy let it end at that with a scowl and a shove. But most of the time, Eggsy mentioned their father, and asking Lee_ _if it didn’t really matter what_ he _said, and Lee would go quiet. It wasn’t a secret how much of a disappointment Lester Unwin thought of his gay son, but at this point Eggsy was used to that. Being the disappointment in the family._

 _He sighed as he got back to his dingy apartment, wondering what was with all the reminiscing. He was probably just missing his big bruv, which was mental because the sod was just off training with his squad somewhere in the country, wasn’t he? Maybe he should drop by their apartment on Christmas. Michelle made lovely roast, and Eggsy could bake a cake that made their_ da _salivate, and he was a tough prick, that one._

_Eggsy nodded. Christmas Eve dinner with Michelle, it is. He should go to the store and get some ingredients for the cake, but first he had to take a shower. A hard day working the till, it was._

_When he got out of the shower a few minutes later, he heard a few rhythmic knocks on his door, making him frown in wonder. He peaked his head out of his bedroom and stared at the door, wondering who could possibly be visiting him. Only his big bruv would, but he was at that training gig. Not like he was around to invite Eggsy out for a few drinks. And Michelle always called before visiting._

_More than just a little wary, he put on a pair of trousers and an old, threadbare shirt before walking towards the door. It didn’t have a peephole, but it had a chain, so he went ahead and attached that to the metal track before taking a peek._

_“Yeah? Whaddya—“ He paused when he saw his visitor, having to blink a few times because it_ definitely _ain’t Lee or Michelle, but he realized he didn’t mind that at all._

 _There was a very,_ very _fit bloke standing on the other side, and Eggsy would be lying if he claimed not to have gasped a little at the sight of him._

 _“Good evening. Gary Unwin, I presume?” Fit Bloke said, voice all deep-like and posture straight and proper like the suit he was parading in. Normally Eggsy scoffed at well-bred toffs like him but_ wow _. “I apologize for the late visit, but I have urgent news about your brother, Lee Unwin. May I come in?”_

_Eggsy blinked out of his dazed stupor. Lee? This posh bloke knew his big bruv? What kinda training was Lee-boy doing, if he was associating with men like this? And why the fuck didn’t he say he was working with such a good-looking bloke? The arsehole._

_Realizing that he’d been staring, he quickly closed the door and undid the chain lock, opening it once more to let the handsome stranger in. He unabashedly stared as the bloke entered his rundown flat, and he slapped himself lightly on the cheek._

_“Down, Eggsy,” Lee would say in jest. Eggsy took a deep breath and followed the man further in._

_“So,” he began lamely, sitting across Fit Bloke in the living room. He squirmed a little under the man’s intense, brown-eyed gaze, and thanked God that he chose to wear his roomier trousers. Would’ve been embarrassing otherwise. “You said somethin’ about me bruv?”_

_“Yes,” said Fit Bloke, and there was a sad, almost regretful light to his eyes that made Eggsy sit up a bit straighter. He didn’t like that look. Not at all. “I regret to inform you that your brother, Lee Unwin, is dead.”_

* * *

Number 11 Stanhope Mews seemed to have changed very little, was the first thing Eggsy observed when they arrived. It was still tucked at the far end of the row of townhouses, imposing in its quiet regality. The location had always reminded Eggsy of someone sitting at the head of the dinner table, and many years ago he told Hart that him being assigned this home was probably some sort of sign that he was going to be Arthur one day. 

Hart had laughed at him then and gestured him inside, reminding him that they had only twenty-four hours, _get a move on, love._

“Eggsy?” came Hart’s voice, jerking him out of his reverie. “Are you all right?”

Eggsy paused before scoffing and crossing his arms over his chest. He turned to Hart and gave him an unimpressed stare. “I just lost me home, bruv. I’m anythin’ but fuckin’ all right. But thanks for askin’, I guess.”

“Yes, well.” Hart seemed to have realized his slight, at least, for he turned his head away and cleared his throat. He looked abashed, which was an expression Eggsy could never associate with Hart, regardless of the circumstances. There had been only one other time Eggsy had seen him look so uncertain, and that had led to… 

Hart interrupted his thoughts once more by tapping on his arm. He handed him something. “By the way, you dropped this. Back at the shop.”

Eggsy eyed the photo album for a split second before quickly snatching it away, turning with a sharp _hmph_. It was bad enough it got burnt in the explosion; he didn’t need Hart’s filthy hands tainting it, too. But what of Eggsy’s possessions _hadn’t_ been tainted by Hart’s hands?

“Thanks,” he said anyway, cradling the photo album close to his chest. He thought about getting the rest of his things before Hart could contaminate those, too, but he stopped when he realized that he came with nothing.

He had nothing.

He took a deep, shaking breath as he recalled all that he’d lost: Scrambler, his Kingsman suits, his snow globes, _J.B.’s urn._ That news clipping of March 29, 2014 was gone, too; and Eggsy had hung up that article because he got so emotional over it, he cried. 

They were gone, _all gone_ , just like that. The photo album in his hands was all that had remained from the explosion, and most of the pictures were ruined anyway.

He had nothing. _Nothing_.

Completely unaware of Eggsy’s mental breakdown, Hart passed him by and unlocked the door to his house. He opened the door and turned the lights on in the entryway, telling Eggsy to come in over his shoulder. 

Minutes must have passed, maybe hours, but Eggsy followed him inside eventually, his orange crocs squeaking with every step. The obnoxious noise grounded him, in a way. It rooted him to the present because no such noise would exist in Hart’s house, no sir. 

But the noises stopped once he passed the threshold, and Eggsy found himself slipping back to a time when things were simple, glittering and bright. Suddenly the pain he felt from having lost everything seemed far, far away, for it didn’t compare to the anguish building up in his lungs at the sight that greeted him at the entryway.

Nothing changed. At _all_. Hart’s home was exactly the way he remembered it being. Eggsy could easily recall walking through here for the first time eighteen years ago. And then… walking out for the last time three years later. 

He held the photo album close to his chest and walked further in.

He heard footsteps come from the stairs, telling him that Hart had actually gone up the second floor in the time he took to finally get inside the house. The man spoke as he was making his way down the steps, “I’ve prepared the first guest room for you. I’m afraid the other one needs a bit of airing out, so you’ll have to make do with the one next to my bedroom before—“

Hart paused suddenly, causing Eggsy to look up and ask, warily, “what?”

“What’s wrong?” Hart met him at the entryway, brows furrowed. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

Eggsy blinked, and he was surprised to feel trails of wetness run down his cheeks. He looked away and harrumphed, rubbing at his eyes. “N-Nothin’. It’s nothin’.” 

“Eggsy, it can’t be nothing.”

“Yeah, it _can_. Leave me alone, Hart.”

“Eggsy, _please_. What’s wrong?”

Eggsy growled and turned his wild, misty eyes on Hart. “What’s wrong is that I just lost me fucking _house_ , Hart! Who the fuck wouldn’t cry about losing everything they had? I worked hard to get all that shit in there! But I guess you wouldn’t get that, growin’ up the way you did, would you?”

Hart drew back as if he had been slapped. “I—“

“Fuck, you’re full of stupid questions tonight, aren’tcha?” Eggsy wiped at his face one last time before passing by Hart, bumping roughly into his shoulder. “Well, I ain’t in the mood for your poor manners, mate. I’m gonna go to bed.”

Eggsy ran up the stairs two steps at a time, legs moving automatically as they brought him to the guest room Hart mentioned. He knew which one it was: it was the room he had slept in the first time he stayed over that night, when he got to spend twenty-four hours with the man who gave him the opportunity to change his life for the better, to make his late older bruv proud of the man he became. The night Hart had sat next to him, eyes warm brown like the scotch in his glass, hand stroking his and murmuring, _I’m so proud of you_.

He shut the door behind him and locked it, falling onto the bed.

(Harry stood at the foot of the stairs, staring up at the steps where Eggsy had vanished in a flurry of rage. He sighed and made his way up to his office, pausing a mere few seconds as his brain seemed to register his destination being on the left, but… 

He stared at one of the closed doors to the right and shook his head.

“Good night, Eggsy.”)

* * *

Daisy once said that Eggsy woke up like a Disney princess. Don’t get him wrong; Eggsy _loved_ Disney princesses. After his family got a colored telly in the seventies, Eggsy would drag his older brother to watch Sleeping Beauty with him. Lee would then tease and ask him if he liked it so much ‘cause he thought Prince Phillip was well fit, and Eggsy would choke him till the wanker took it back.

So yeah, Eggsy _loved_ those princesses, even the new ones. But he found that particular comparison to his sleeping habits bizarre for two reasons: that Daisy had actually watched him sleep and wake up long enough to be able to deduce that his princess-like sleeping habits _were_ a trend, and not a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence, and that she suggested that lovely, youthful princesses even woke up like Eggsy, who was saggy-faced, wrinkle-eyed, and sore-jointed on his best day. 

So Eggsy waking up like a princess? Seemed more horrifying than flattering, if he was being perfectly honest.

He groaned. Well, whatever habits he _did_ have, he knew that waking up on the dot was one of them, and hell if he was to going to waste time waxing poetic about the chirping birds outside or the sunbeam dancing on his face. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand to check what time it was, frowning when he realized it was… farther than usual? What on earth—

Blinking groggily, he lifted his head a little and stared at the unfamiliar piece of furniture in the room… which was _also_ unfamiliar. Where were his orange walls with the dinosaur decals? Daisy worked so hard putting those up. (Well, technically it was _Eggsy_ who put them up, but Daisy took so long to pick them out, so she worked hard, too.)

He grabbed his glasses and put them on, allowing a few seconds for his vision to adjust. Strangely enough, Eggsy was the only Kingsman agent today that actually _needed_ graded lenses, as his vision had deteriorated over the years. Another cruel reminder of his waning existence, which truthfully wasn’t something he should be thinking about so early in the morning. It was going to put him in a bad mood for the whole day, and the last thing he wanted was for Hart to find another reason to ask him what was wro—

Eggsy froze. Suddenly the events of last night came back: pipes, ashes, burnt photos. He took a deep breath and cradled his face in his hands, telling himself not to cry because he cried enough last night, thank you very much, and in front of _Hart_ on top of that. And the last time the wanker saw him cry was—

He slapped his face a few times. _Get it together, Unwin,_ he told himself as he pushed away the covers to get out of bed. He was about to leave the room to freshen up when he saw a black garment bag hanging on on the closet knob. A folded note was attached to the front, with Hart’s loopy script bearing his name. He snatched it up and read it, seeing more of Hart’s loopy, posh script.

_Eggsy,_

_I deeply apologize for my behavior last night. In my haste to offer you comfort, I had been insensitive to you and your circumstances._

_I took the liberty of getting you a new set of clothes for this morning. Kingsman will provide you with a fresh batch of new suits and various everyday wear, of course, but I had them sent over an extra suit of yours that was available. I do hope you like it._

_I prepared you some breakfast, as well. I apologize for not staying to eat with you, but I have a meeting with a representative from the MI6 this morning and—_

Eggsy crumpled the paper and threw it in the bin under the desk. He guessed that whatever came next wasn’t important or all that interesting to him anyway, so whatever. He took down the garment bag and unzipped it, staring at the suspiciously fresh-scented suit for a few moments before scowling and zipping it back up.

Navy pinstripe. Fucking sap.

He sighed and took the garment bag on the way to the bath in the hall. He paused on the way, looking towards Hart’s room—eyes softening as ghosts with tighter skin and youthful smiles barrelled through the door, laughing as one was chased by the other down the stairs. Eggsy shook his head, the ghosts now gone, and pushed the bathroom door open so he could finally start his day.

When Eggsy put on the suit, the navy bringing out his eyes and the lines making him look less wide, he lasted about three seconds before his face began to crumble, and he had to cover his mouth to prevent any sobs from escaping. The man in the mirror looked so familiar, and Eggsy could have sworn he saw a more youthful version of himself looking into his eyes.

But that was an illusion. Everything in this god-forsaken _house_ was an illusion, and Eggsy realized that living here was going to be harder than he thought. He was going to break before the week was over, and the last thing he wanted was for Hart to see how pathetic he really was. He needed a new home, fast. 

And the one person who could provide him with just that was Merlin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I'm sorry, real life turned into a bitch and a half and I'm just all 8')) 
> 
> Also, more people liked this than I thought. I was afraid Hartwin being in their fifties here was going to turn people off, but fortunately quite a few seemed to like the idea. And who doesn't like a classic exes-getting-back-together story lmao.
> 
> Thanks for waiting! I'll do my best to update again soon <3


	3. Why You Gotta Push Me, Bruv?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! XD Early update, I know, but I've been commissioned to do a few wall murals so I'm gonna vanish for a bit. I already have the third chapter ready so I thought, "why not?" Hope you enjoy!

_March 23, 1999_

_“Fuck,” was Eggsy’s vocabulary of choice that morning, grumbling with the others as they changed into their tartan suits to attend their first morning of training. Last night had been a fucking joke: who in their right fucking mind tried to drown their recruits? And they even succeeded with one! And that bird had been the only one Eggsy liked. Figured._

_Just wait till he got his hands on his so-called sponsor. He was going to throttle him!_

_“My, my,” came a deep voice lilting with amusement. “You’re awfully bright-eyed this morning.”_

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear, eh? Eggsy turned to meet Harry Hart with the classic Unwin Frown. “I’m gonna fucking kill you after all this is over.”_

_A corner of Hart’s ridiculously perfect mouth quirked up at that. “Oh, really now?”_

_“Yeah,” Eggsy said, nodding determinedly. He poked at Hart’s breast a few times. “You got some nerve, recruitin’ me for an agency that murders its fuckin’ candidates! Where do you toffs get off, thinkin’ you can get away with this shit?”_

_“If you can’t take the pressure, you can always quit,” said Hart, all blasé like the wanker that he was, brushing off the front of his suit where Eggsy had poked him. Eggsy seethed as Hart smirked at him. “Though I confess to being a little disappointed. I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone to quit so soon. But I suppose, given your track record, that’s all Gary Unwin has to offer, eh?”_

_“You shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Eggsy growled, pushing past him to catch up with the rest of the recruits. That severe-looking bloke Merlin said they were going to meet at the field today. “I’mma show you what I can dish out. That pretty boy jaw o’ yours is gonna drop to the floor after I’m done, I swear on me mum.”_

_“Between the two of us, it’s awfully clear who’s the pretty boy,” Hart had the fucking gall to say, smirking like a wanker all the while. As Eggsy was stammering to form a response, the bastard smiled and waved, passing him by to enter the mansion. “But I’m looking forward to what you can_ dish out _, Eggsy. Perhaps it won’t be just my jaw that’s going to drop, hm?”_

_Eggsy stared, flabbergasted, as Hart grew smaller and smaller, before inevitably vanishing from sight. He shook himself out of his reverie and cursed, running towards the field where the rest of the recruits where gathered. Merlin hadn’t been impressed with his tardiness and made him select a puppy last._

_Which was all good. Eggsy liked bulldogs, anyway._

* * *

Eggsy didn’t bother calling for a Kingsman cab to bring him to the shop. That was mostly just _Hart’s_ thing, lazy bastard, and Eggsy could walk and use the tube just fine, thanks. And weren’t the millennials complaining about fuel emission being harmful to the environment, and all that? He became a Kingsman to help save the world, not make it worse. Not using the cab was just Eggsy’s way of being a responsible baby boomer. 

Or was he Gen X-er? He frowned. Who decided this stuff, anyway?

As he was having a mini identity crisis, Eggsy didn’t notice that someone else had been in the shop when he came in. He stopped short when he saw the gaudy yellow of James’s suit invade his vision.

He blinked and stood up a bit straighter, offering his fellow agent a quick nod. “‘Lo, Lancelot.”

“Gareth. I heard your house blew up last night. Gas leak, was it?” was James’s way of greeting, putting a hand in his pocket. “Good thing you weren’t in it when it happened, eh?”

“Careful, if your tone were any less merry I’d assume you _weren’t_ glad that I’m alive and well,” Eggsy quipped, arching a brow at his fellow agent.

James laughed and nodded, patting Eggsy’s shoulder a few times. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m _thrilled_ that we can all still bask in your glowing presence for more days to come. It’s just… gas leak. Fucking _pipes_. Good Lord, what a terrible way to have gone. I’d rather be split in half, myself.”

“Yeah, well.” Eggsy’s face reddened slightly as he brushed James’s hand off his shoulder. He grumbled a bit as James followed him to the lift. “Not really a maintenance kinda bloke, me. And don’t we have some of our guys look into stuff like that for us? I must’ve been sabotaged, after all.”

“ _No_. Who would want to get rid of you?” James asked, gasping and placing a hand over his heart. He reached out and cupped Eggsy’s face, squeezing his cheeks together and making him do a duck-face. “Such a ball of sunshine you are! No one could even _think_ to cope without you around to brighten everyone’s day. We’d be so inconsolable. Especially Arthur.”

“Fuck off, Spencer,” Eggsy growled out, grumbling more when James just laughed.

“Ah, touchy subject, still?” James grinned, not even fazed by the warning snarl Eggsy gave him. But he relented with his hands raised in silent surrender. “My, you don’t have to go all  _animal_ on me, man. I was just making a little joke.”

“I just lost me house, mate. I’m not really in the mood for jokes,” Eggsy said tiredly, entering the shuttle and taking a seat. He scowled when James sat in front of him, still grinning like a wanker. “I’m gonna let the others slide ‘cause we’re friends an’ all, but one more out of ya and I’m punching your ugly mug, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, dear Eggsy.” James sighed and nodded. The shuttle began to move, and for a while the steady gearing of the tracks was what filled the space between them until James spoke again. “For what it’s worth, though, I truly am sorry about what happened. And I really do mean it when I said I was glad that you weren’t home when it happened.”

Eggsy sniffed, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. “Yeah, I guess. Not really my style, innit, dying.”

“Nor is ending up in an explosion-induced coma. That’s more like our dear Arthur’s thing, and he’s done that like, what, twice in the last three years? Speaking of Arthur, though.” James cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, staying at his place for the meantime? Given your shared _history_ , and all?”

Eggsy sighed and rubbed at his eyes, his glasses pushed up to his forehead. “I know, right? We’re just going to end up killing each other by the end of the week, mark my words. Truthfully, the bloke’s been nice and accommodating, but that ain’t really what I want, ya know? Especially from him.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you’ve been in a perpetual state of self-loathing and bitterness since you broke up with him. Hard to remember, with you being so cheerful all the time,” James quipped, folding a leg on top of his knee. “What was the reason again? Terrible snoring? Wouldn’t put the toilet seat down no matter how many times you nagged at him to do it?”

“You know why,” Eggsy said, glaring at his shiny, new oxfords. The bastard even remembered his shoe size, go figure.

“Hmm, yes, I do. And I’ll tell you the same thing I say every time I’m reminded of it: you’re an idiot.”

“And Hart’s a wanker. He _knew_ what it would do to me, going through with it. But he did it anyway, behind my back even. How can I trust him after that?”

“Eggsy, Harry was just doing his _job_ —“

“Yeah, had a lot of fun doing it, didn’t he?” Eggsy spat. He shook his head and settled further back into the seat. “Look, let’s just drop it, all right? Ain’t in the mood for reminiscing. Especially not about this.”

James paused before sighing and nodding. “Very well. I guess you’re not the only idiot; Harry’s always been emotionally constipated, and letting things go so sour between the two of you was partially his fault.”

“That’s ‘cause he guilty, the fucker,” Eggsy said, huffing.

“So what are you going to do? I don’t think it’s healthy for both of you to remain together for too long,” James asked, brows creasing on his forehead.

“I know, right? That’s what _I_ was trying to say last night, but did Arthur and Merlin give me the chance to explain that? No!” Eggsy huffed, hands stilling above his head as he resisted the urge to run his hands through his styled hair. He settled back in his seat and added, “but that’s why I’m here today. I’m gonna ask Merlin for a new house, and I ain’t leaving till I get one. It don’t matter if there ain’t any equipped with Kingsman-grade security yet; I ain’t the Queen, I can handle myself just fine.”

“You are _a_ queen, though,” James said, grinning and shielding his face when Eggsy took off his shoe and threatened to throw it at him. “Dear God, put that thing down, you maniac!”

“You better be thankin’ your fucking stars that I ain’t got _Scrambler_ with me right now! Would’a knocked your brain right outta yer deformed skull for that fucking comment!” Eggsy waved the shoe around before slipping it back on his foot, grumbling unhappily as James continued to laugh and shake in his seat. Eggsy stomped his foot on the floor. “Wanker!”

The rest of the ride to HQ was a little more tolerable after that, with James just mocking Eggsy’s favorite team to win in the next FIFA World Cup and Eggsy calling him a gaudy-dressed wanker every other sentence. They shoved each other out of the shuttle like schoolboys until Eggsy really _did_ end up falling over, cursing all the while, and James helped him up while claiming he didn’t mean to be such a bully to a senior.

Eggsy slapped his hand away and fixed his suit jacket. “Who you callin’ a senior? You’s older than me, you idjit!”

“Ah, but I don’t look it, do I?” James evaded a punch with an elegant spin and laughed, waving him off as he went up the flight of stairs ahead of Eggsy. “Well, this is where we part, my friend. I’m due for a briefing with Arthur before I leave for Manila tomorrow afternoon, and I’m sure you’re going to be busy begging Merlin for the entire day.”

“I’ll beg on my knees if I have to,” Eggsy griped, following James up in a more sedated pace.

James shrugged. “Whatever works for you. Don’t tell Harry though; he’d be awfully jealous if he found out you were on your knees for anyone else—“

James cried out when Eggsy really _did_ throw his shoe at him this time, and it hit him square on the back. Pursing his lips he picked up Eggsy’s shoe and ran with it, causing Eggsy to screech and chase after him.

“FUCK YOU, SPENCER, GIMME BACK ME SHOE!”

“Well you should’ve thought twice before throwing it away then, mate! It’s mine now!”

“FUCK YOUUUUUU!”

* * *

“You’re here earlier than I expected you to be,” Merlin said in way of greeting when Eggsy ambled inside his study—or laboratory. Eggsy was actually unsure what to call it, since he was positive normal offices didn’t have doofers the size of a radio station satellite dish sitting in the corner like a normal piece of furniture. 

Eggsy eyed the suspicious-looking doofer warily and stood as far away from it as possible. “You weren’t expecting me to just sit around twiddling my thumbs while being homeless, were ya?”

“No one expects you to sit around at all. It’s not really in your nature, is it?” Merlin quipped, putting down his clipboard to properly face him. His brows creased as his eyes softened at the sight of him. “How is everything?”

Eggsy shrugged and sat on one of Merlin’s many swivel chairs. “Well, could be better, I s’pose, though it could be worse, too.”

“You and Arthur _are_ still in one piece. I suppose that’s a good thing overall.” Merlin hummed and nodded, writing down some notes on a piece of paper. With his obvious clinginess to that magic clipboard of his, it was a surprise the Scot still even wrote on paper, much less remembered the original use of the fountain pen. “I know why you’re here, Eggsy, and I’m sorry to say that finding you a new home really _will_ take a bit of time. Outfitting a house for a Kingsman isn’t a walk in the park, as I’m sure Arthur has explained to you sufficiently last night.”

Eggsy sighed and leaned back in the chair. “But I don’t _need_ all that fancy-schmancy security shit. I can live in a new house _while_ it’s being outfitted, yeah? There ain’t no reason I can’t live in it while you guys are improving it.”

Merlin nodded. “I won’t deny that you make an excellent point. But one of our major issues is that we don’t even  _have_ a suitable house available for you to live in. Not within London, anyway. The events of V-Day killed off most of our sponsors and benefactors, who were the official deed holders of the safe houses in Kingsman’s use. The government has seized all properties left abandoned by the victims of V-Day, which unfortunately included our reserve safe houses.”

“What the fuck?” Eggsy cried out. “So what, there actually ain’t _no_ house for me? At all?”

“We do have a few in Wales,” Merlin said, giving Eggsy a look. “Though I doubt you’d want to live all the way there, eh?”

“No,” Eggsy affirmed, sighing. He rubbed at his eyes and asked, “so what’s being done now, then? Are we just waiting for a house to fall on us like we’s the wicked witch of the east?”

Merlin snorted. “Of course not. While Kingsman’s resources are controlled at the moment, we have other ways to get what we want. Arthur is actually in a meeting with MI6 right now to request help in requisitioning our former house deeds.”

Eggsy blinked, letting his jaw drop. “You wot?”

“Yes. Didn’t Arthur tell you? About the meeting?” Merlin asked, brow cocked.

Eggsy frowned at his lap, his thoughts going back to the note he didn’t finish reading. He wondered if Hart had explained the reason for the meeting with MI6 there. Though if Hart _did_ mention why he was having that meeting today, Eggsy was actually glad he had thrown that note away because knowing would’ve turned him into a useless, sobbing mess. 

Hart shouldn’t care about him so much, after all that had happened between them. And especially not after what he did to Eggsy.

“Gareth?” Merlin called out, brows creased. “Eggsy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he told me. Kind of,” Eggsy admitted quietly, tapping his fingers on his knee. It was a tic that he seemed to have picked up ever since becoming an agent, though he had no idea where he got such a weird habit. 

“Of course, he would.” Merlin’s eyes softened. “He cares a lot about you. You should know that.”

“Uh, all right.” Eggsy stopped tapping at his knee. Damn, this was getting awkward. “Well. If Arthur’s already trying to come up with a solution for it, I’ll wait. Ain’t like I got much of a choice, do I?”

“No,” said Merlin after a short pause. “I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Well, damn,” Eggsy said, laughing a little. Scratching at his neck, he asked, “so, uh, is there anything I could do in the meantime? I know I just came back from Hong Kong a few days ago but if there’s a mission I could do—“

“Missions are assigned by Arthur, as you may know. I only assist in the briefings, as well as assign handlers, if not actively handle agents myself.”

“Ah. Right.” 

“Follow me,” Merlin said, sighing and standing from the desk and heading out of his office. Laboratory. _Lair_. Whatever it was. “It’s not a mission or anything, but it should be equally exciting. It might even cheer you up a little.”

“What is it?” Eggsy asked, excited all the same. He followed the Scot to the R&D department, waiting patiently as Merlin told him to wait by one of the work tables near the doors. 

When Merlin came back, he brought with him a long, thin case, and Eggsy’s eyes widened when he recognized it for what it was.

He pointed a shaking finger at it, blue-green eyes shining. “Is that—“

“Yes,” Merlin said, smirking a little. He patted the top of the case and cleared his throat, facing a bright-eyed Eggsy. “As you may know, Kingsman has a top-of-the-line engineering department, and we pride ourselves in improving our equipment and security algorithms faster than any other secret service—“

“Which we’re officially not supposed to be aware of,” Eggsy interjected cheekily. 

Merlin cleared his throat, but he was still smirking. “Yes, _officially_. In any case, our superior innovation and gadget development skills have put us on top of the spy game, and also made us the Queen’s favorite, no matter what MI6 says.

“But with the advent of new, better gadgets comes with the reality of inevitably phasing out the older ones, almost never remaking them. This is to make sure that we’re never caught off guard by an enemy’s own nefarious devices and inventions, and to keep up with an ever-improving and changing technological climate. It won’t look good on our remaining sponsors that we’re losing our touch, eh?”

“It’s all about more funding with you, innit,” Eggsy said, rolling his eyes with a huff.

Merlin waved him off and put both hands on the lid, slowly lifting it up to reveal a red, velvety bed. “While it’s true that we discourage remaking old models of gadgets, I know how particularly fond you are of _this_ one, so I pulled out a few blueprints and had it remade and improved. It’s much more advanced now, but as it is still a prototype, I suggest you—“

“ _Scrambler_!” Eggsy cried out in excitement as Merlin took out a sleek, black cane from the case. He grabbed it out of Merlin’s hands, brandishing it and laughing. “You got me a new Scrambler! Jesus fuck, I thought I’d never get one again! Merlin, I could kiss you right now, you sappy fuck!”

“Please don’t,” Merlin said, coughing into his fist and scratching at his ear. He rolled his eyes as Eggsy started thrusting the cane forward and making childish, _whoosh_ sounds. “Anyway, this was actually in the works for weeks, as you didn’t seem to want to do _anything_ with Rainmaker and that has become every Kingsman agent’s staple equipment. I hadn’t planned to finish it this early originally, but with circumstances being what they are—“

“Does it still have an epee?” Eggsy asked, inspecting his new, shiny toy like a kid at Christmas. “ _Please_ tell me you kept the epee, I had loads of fun with it, and I don’t care if it’s a pain in the arse to maintain!”

“Unfortunately, it does. In fact.” Merlin reached out to press a button on the golden collar under the handle, and Eggsy watched with rapt attention as the Kingsman logo flashed green against the ring of gold. In just a second, the shaft of the cane collapsed in itself, its diameter decreasing and reforming until it became triangular. 

Eggsy’s jaw dropped. “Fuckin’ _hell_.”

“Fucking spectacular, isn’t it? Thought of it, myself.” Merlin smirked, chin jutted out. “Now you don’t have to waste time unsheathing the godforsaken thing. It takes a mere 1.34 seconds to fully transform, giving you more time to actually make it useful for combat. The stopper at the tip is still a one-time use projectile that will release a cloud of paralyzing mist. It transforms along with the shaft if not used, of course, and the actual blade tip under it is still coated with your favorite poison.”

“Stabby, stabby, poisoned baddie,” Eggsy sang, giggling a bit. He pressed the button on the handle again, grinning as the blade expanded and turned back into the shiny, black shaft. He turned to Merlin and batted his eyelashes. “Merls, you’s the bee’s knees, you are.”

Merlin harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, well, I knew you weren’t going to shut up about losing Scrambler, so I thought I’d do everyone a favor and hand you the prototype. It only need a bit of tweaking, after all. Feel free to test it out in the gym, but if there are _any_ issues, bring it back to R &D immediately.”

“Oh, come on, Merls! Don’t wave me off like that. _C’mere_.” Eggsy stretched his arms and wiggled his fingers as he approached the Scot. “Let ol’ Eggs give you a nice, _biiig_ hug, bruv!”

“Stay away from me,” Merlin warned, edging away from the grinning agent.

Eggsy pouted and chased after him. “Come on, Merls! Hugs ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about _you_ and what I’m going to do to you if you dare touch me.”

“Aww, you meanie! Come and hug Eggsy before you hurt his feelings!”

“If you want to hug someone, go and look for Arthur. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your hugs more than I ever could.”

“ _Pssh_ , as if I want to go anywhere near _‘im_. You’re the one I want, bruv!”

“Eggsy, _no_ —“ Merlin took off as he rounded the corner of a table and ran out the double doors, Eggsy on his heels. He looked over his shoulder and yelled, “get away from me, ya crazy bawbag!”

“Not until I get the cuddles!” Eggsy giggled.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph,” Merlin cried out as he skidded down the hall, turning the corner and making a dash for the stairs.

* * *

Eggsy tapped his foot to the tune he was whistling to as he ascended the lift, Scrambler tucked safely under his arm while his other hand carried a suitcase of new gadgets he managed to yoink from the HQ armory. He got some extras of his favorite ones, like the lighter grenade and the obscure, though incredibly useful, voice-changing tie bar. He had one in the shape of a pug before, in memory of his precious J.B., but well.

He shook the memory out of his head and tried thinking of more positive things. It wouldn’t do him good to mope around and feel sorry for himself, especially since Eggsy had lived his early life a little rough. Being homeless ain’t _too bad_ , considering he still technically had a roof over his head. Even though that roof currently belonged to his boss. Who was also his fucking ex.

He frowned as he got out of the lift, mind preoccupied as he thought over what he’d learned today. So Hart had called up MI6 to get more safe houses, or something? That was… well. Eggsy didn’t know what to call it, exactly. He couldn’t say it was an urgent matter, because Hart would have done it right after V-Day when King outed himself as a traitor. But he couldn’t have done it just for Eggsy either because Hart wouldn’t go through all that trouble just for him, knowing the trouble that Eggsy brought him when…

Eggsy shook his head. No, it was _Hart_ who brought the trouble into their lives. Eggsy had every right to leave him after what he had done. It was that fucker’s fault, what happened, and Eggsy had no regrets. _None_.

He opened the door to exit the fitting room when, upon taking a few steps out, he bumped into a flat chest in a charcoal grey suit. He was about to apologize, but then he saw who exactly he had collided into and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said a little grumpily. 

“Hello, Gareth,” Hart greeted, dimples in full view as he smiled. His eyes went up and down his form, causing his smile to widen a little. “I see you’re wearing the suit I got you. I trust that you find the fit satisfactory?”

“Yeah, it fits all right, I guess,” Eggsy said, taking a few steps back so he didn’t have to feel Hart’s breath ghosting over his skin. He adjusted his grip on his suitcase before adding, “it’s a good thing I decided not to have seconds last night at Michelle’s, then. Wouldn’t be able to fit in this suit if I were a whale, yeah?”

“You exaggerate. A few extra plates would make you bloated, but not too big for your suit,” Harry said. With a cheeky light in his eyes, he added, “and I doubt your pride will allow you to gain a few pounds, regardless.”

“Speak for yourself, you peacock.” Eggsy rolled his eyes again and propped Scrambler up to use it as an actual cane. Having it free would just tempt him to test it on Hart, and while he knew he’d be doing many people a favor, himself included, he doubted the agency as a whole would appreciate him bludgeoning Arthur to a bloody pulp. “So. Meeting with MI6 done, or summat?”

“Yes. I just got back, actually,” Hart said, his smile fading as he eyed Scrambler being tapped on the floor. His mouth formed a full frown as he lifted his eyes back up to meet Eggsy’s. “You know, Rainmaker is a much more practical weapon these days. Scrambler was fun back in the day, but it won’t shield you from a rain of bullets.”

Eggsy smiled sweetly, holding up Scrambler by the shaft so he can tap Hart’s chest with the handle, _one, two_. “Ain’t really asking for your advice, ain’t I, _Arthur_?”

Hart retained the frown, shaking his head. “And a cane is a little too conspicuous, don’t you think? An umbrella would help you blend in more easily. Plus, it is an actual _umbrella_. It would save you from the frequent showers, if anything.”

Eggsy’s mouth was stretched as far as it can as he said, “nah, thanks, bruv, but I’m okay with ol’ Scrambles here. She and I have a history, ya know?”

“A history,” Hart repeated slowly, eyes trailing down from Eggsy’s eyes to his oxfords. 

“Yeh,” Eggsy said, sniffing and bringing down Scrambler back on the ground with a quiet thud. He side-stepped his boss and started walking towards the door. “Right, well, I got some shit to do, so if you’s done, I’ll—“

“Wait.” The urgency in Hart’s voice stopped Eggsy in his tracks. “Please. I need but a moment of your time, Eggsy.”

“What do you want, Arthur?” Eggsy asked, allowing some of his prickliness to show in the lines on his face. He waved Scrambler at the door. “I kinda need to pick up my niece from school, so if you can make it quick, ta.”

Hart pursed his lips, looking oddly shy. That threw Eggsy off because _what the fuck_? Hart ain’t _ever_ shy. “I was merely wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me this evening.”

Eggsy blinked. Once, twice. And then Scrambler and his briefcase fell with a loud crash on the floor. “Wot.”

“Ah, well,” Hart began, clearing his throat and taking a few steps towards Eggsy. He eyed the mess on the floor for a moment before continuing, “I just thought that, with you and I living under the same roof for now, we can share a few meals together. Just to save time. And, perhaps, catch up with each other. It has been a long while, yes?”

“Sixteen years,” Eggsy said without thinking, eyes focusing on the tie bar on Hart’s dark red tie.

Hart smiled, brown eyes shining a little. “Yes. A rather long while, it’s been.”

Eggsy hummed. His eyes were still on the dark red tie, which, now that he thought about it, looked familiar somehow. In a matter of seconds, his eyes misted, and ghostly hands started reaching for the tie, drawing Hart closer. Then he stood on his tiptoes, whispering to Hart how fucking _mad_ he was for him and—

Without warning, Eggsy laid his palms on Hart’s chest and gave a quick shove. The abruptness of it made Hart stagger back, eyes wide with confusion, and maybe a little hurt. His eyes bounced up and down Eggsy’s form. “Eggsy—“

“No. _No, Arthur_. Just _no_.” Eggsy waved his hands in front of him in jerky movements, bending down to quickly gather his belongings. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath and said, “I ain’t doing that with you. Not again. You can’t fuck with me like this, Hart. I won’t allow it.”

“Eggsy, it’s just dinner,” Hart said, swallowing. He paused for a few moments. “I promise it’s not a date—“

“Fuck you,” Eggsy interjected harshly, pushing against the shop door. He lingered a bit as the cold, November chill hit his face, and he scrunched up his face and snapped before leaving. “ _Fuck you_.”

(Harry stood frozen as the shop door swung back and forth, the bell a distant noise in the background. After a few beats of silence, the world regained its momentum, and Harry found enough balance to his core to make his way to the armchair in the room. He slumped inelegantly in it, hand ruining his perfectly coifed hair as he stared at the door, brown eyes dazed and misting.

A ghost barrelled through the door, an echo of a bell and a laugh following. _It’s a date, then. Don’t forget, Haz!_

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, the ghost and the smile gone. _I won’t._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god the chapters are getting longer nOO-
> 
> Ya know, I kinda based most of Eggsy's personality here on my great uncle. He's gay and gets really sensitive about being teased as such, since he had a really awful experience with it back in the day. He's proud, but extremely defensive to any form of teasing. Just thought I'd give you guys an idea where I got inspiration from!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments, guys! It really warms my heart to know people like this idea~~


	4. I Ain't Justin Bieber, But I'm Still Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is getting out of hand :(

_January 10, 1998_

_It took Eggsy a long while to accept that his big bruv was gone. It just didn’t seem like Lee at all, leaving his loved ones behind, but then again it was the reality of soldiers, wasn’t it? Possibly dying at a young age._

_That didn’t make it easy to accept, however, especially when Harry Hart (a.k.a. Fit Bloke) confessed that Lee had died because of him and his supposed oversight. He became far less attractive to Eggsy after that admission, and Eggsy kicked him out of his apartment after throwing a punch at his stupidly perfect face._

_Which was… probably unfair, now that he thought about it three weeks later. It wasn’t the bloke’s fault, being saved by his brother. His life had been in peril, and Lee did the right thing by saving him, even if it cost him his life. Now that was something Lee would do, the selfless prick._

_He should apologize to the bloke. Eggsy wasn’t usually the offender in cases like this, but he knew when to acknowledge when he was in the wrong—and what he did to Hart was_ very _wrong. But how the fuck was he supposed to find him? The only thing Eggsy succeeded in finding was trouble in the form of cheating husbands and straight, but “curious” arseholes._

_“Excuse me,” came a deep voice in front. “I’d like to order.”_

_“O-Oh, sorry about that,” Eggsy said, standing straight and clearing his throat. His boss was going to give him an earful about daydreaming on the job, but it wasn’t like Eggsy had much to do to occupy himself. “So, um, what do you—“_

_Eggsy trailed off after lifting his head, and his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets as he pointed at the posh man standing on the other side of the counter. “Y-You!”_

_Harry Hart raised a brow, the corner of his lips quirking just the tiniest bit before he said, “hello, Mr. Unwin. Fancy seeing you here.”_

_Eggsy blanched. Then he scowled. “Yeah right, arsehole. You tellin’ me you dunno that I work ‘ere? I call bullshit.”_

_“It’s a mere coincidence, I assure you.” Hart seemed unfazed by his swearing, adjusting his suit jacket briefly. For a moment Eggsy had been treated with the sight of a fit, pinched waist, and once again he cursed this man for being such a gorgeous fucker. “I was in the neighborhood and fancied myself a cup of coffee. That is what this shop sells, yes? If not, I daresay I made quite the fool of myself today.”_

_“Yeesh, take it easy with the sarcasm, why don’tcha?” Eggsy grumbled. He was about to take an empty cup when he paused, asking, “well, are you drinking it here, or do you want it to go?”_

_“To go, please. A mocha latte, a pump of chocolate, soy milk, extra sugar.”_

_“Yikes,” Eggsy muttered, but punched the order anyway. As the till beeped and printed out the receipt, he told Hart the price and struggled to give change for a twenty pound note (the fucker). He took a to-go cup and wrote down the order with a marker, pausing after writing the man’s name. Looking up, he hesitated before saying, “um, ya know, about last time. Didn’t mean to punch ya, mate. I just, me bruv—“_

_“I understand,” said Hart, and he really did seem to mean it, his brown eyes going soft and warm. It made Eggsy go tingly the first time, and it seemed to have the same effect, even now. “You just lost your brother, and I delivered the news with very little finesse. I spoke with his wife before I informed you, and that had been a rather_ _…_ _tense affair.”_

 _Eggsy smiled a little. Michelle appeared at his doorstep a few hours after Hart did, bawling her eyes out and saying that Lee was taken from her. Eggsy did a bit of crying too, then. “Didn’t mean I had to punch ya. I mean, it meant a lot, you comin’ personally to inform me. Most people would probably just get a letter, ya know? But you came and told me yourself. That was_ _… real nice of ya_ _.”_

_Hart seemed to pause, his eyes briefly going over Eggsy’s form. Eggsy blushed a little when Hart smiled warmly at him. “I’m glad you think so. Still, I’d like to apologize again for your loss. Lee was a good, brave man.”_

_“He was the best of us,” Eggsy said. He cleared his throat and went towards the machine to prepare Hart’s order, which was embarrassingly delayed as it was. He put a lid over the hot coffee and wrapped some tissue around the cup. “H-Here you go, Mr. Hart. A-And, again, I’m sorry.”_

_“Thank you,” Hart took his order, his fingers brushing briefly over Eggsy’s, causing the barista to yelp. His smile turned just a tiny bit cheeky as he nodded. “Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you around, Mr. Unwin.”_

_“Eggsy,” he blurted out. At Hart’s confused stare, he added, “it’s my nickname. I prefer it over my real name, so.”_

_“Ah,” Hart said. Smiling, he fished something out of his breast pocket and handed it to Eggsy. “Well, Eggsy, you may call me Harry.”_

_Eggsy squinted at the card and gave Hart,_ Harry _, a disbelieving look. “A tailor? Thought you was in the marines.”_

_Harry gave him an enigmatic smile, but no explanation. He nodded again and said, “feel free to visit. If you’re ever in need of a suit, I’ll give you a discount.”_

_“Yeah, right,” Eggsy scoffed, watching as Harry left the shop without much fanfare. He sighed, leaning against the counter as Harry’s arse disappeared from view. He looked down at the card, mouthing the words “Kingsman” a few times until his boss came out and started reprimanding him for daydreaming again._

_Eggsy read the card one last time before pocketing it, a small smile playing on his face. He shook his head and started cleaning the counter with a rag. “You’re an idjit, Unwin.”_

* * *

“You’re an idjit, Eggsy.”

Eggsy sighed and ran a hand down his face, scowling at his sister-in-law who was currently squinting at him with the judgment of a thousand juries. “Yeah, well, luv ya too, ‘Chelle.”

Michelle glared at him as she set her daughter’s supper down in front of her, smiling a little when the girl cheered at the sight of chicken nuggets on her plate. She sat on the chair next to the girl and placed her arms on the table, giving Eggsy an unimpressed look. “Don’t gimme that, Eggs. You was with him once, and look at where it got ya. And now you’s saying he’s askin’ you out to dinner.”

“He said it ain’t no date,” Eggsy clarified, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “He was probably just bein’ a friendly host, or summat. It don’t have to mean anythin’.”

“And yet you yelled at ‘im and ran outta there when he said that,” Michelle pointed out. When Eggsy averted his eyes and said nothing, she sighed and moved to sit on the chair next to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Ya know nothin’ good is gonna come from bein’ with a man like that. I told you before, didn’t I? And I ended up bein’ right after all.”

“What’re you on about?” Eggsy asked, brows furrowed as he stared at her. “What’s that got to do with this? Like I said, Hart said it ain’t no date.”

“But you wanted it to be. That’s why you got mad, innit?” she said. Her grip tightened when Eggsy moved to stand up, and she held him down with a pull and a stare. “Ya forget how much I know ya, Eggs. Been friends all our lives, you an’ me, so I was there for a lot of things. I was there for Simon, who was butterin’ you up so he could take your money to buy shit for his girl. I was there for Matthew, who was arse over tits for ya but too much of a coward to divorce his wife. I was there for _Hart_ , who I said was much worse than all those other blokes you was with, and he proved it when—“

“All right, I get it. I _get it_.” Eggsy raised his hands in exasperation, taking a few calming breaths when he saw Daisy pausing with a chicken nugget halfway towards her mouth. He smiled at her and rubbed her head, reassuring the seven-year-old enough to get her to eat again. 

They waited until Daisy took off to play in her room before continuing the conversation in the living room, where Michelle started pacing in front of a sitting Eggsy. The agent sighed and said, “look, I know you’s always been there for me. How could I not? You’re my best friend, ‘Chelle. But I’m tellin’ you it ain’t like that. Hart just wants a friendly dinner, and I just want some advice on how to apologize for bein’ such a presumptuous arse.”

Michelle bit her lip and looked away. “Ya really sure it’s just friendly, though? He could be tryin’ to lure ya in again. Ya never know, with types like Hart.”

Eggsy bristled, fists clenching when he felt the sudden urge to defend the bloke. Which was _mental_ because why the fuck would Eggsy want to defend that wanker, after what he did? He should really be listening to Michelle, but…

“I’m pretty sure. It ain’t like he’s still hung up on me, yeah? I mean.” Eggsy leaned back and swept his hands over his form, smiling sardonically. “Not like he saw something permanent with me, yeah? Like those other blokes. All I ever lived up to was a good fuck.”

Michelle stared at him for a moment, before her eyes softened and misted. She looked away and said, “you really believe that. Don’t ya?”

Eggsy continued smiling, ignoring the sting in his cheeks and eyes. “I just ain’t meant for happily ever after, ‘Chelle. No one looks at me and sees, “forever.” Hart taught me that a long time ago.”

“Which is why I think this is a mistake.” Michelle sat down next to him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Stay here for the night. Better yet, just stay here, _period_. I have a spare room you can use. Daisy would love to have her favorite uncle stay, after all, and I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Eggsy let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna be a burden to ya. I’mma get a new house soon, anyways, so it’s just going to mess up everythin’.” He wasn’t going to mention that it’s still possible that his house _had_ been sabotaged, and getting his last remaining family in danger was the last thing he wanted. 

She squeezed his hand tighter. “You ain’t a burden, Eggs. You know you’re always welcome ‘ere. And I don’t want you bein’ alone with him. Who knows what you’d end up doin’?”

Eggsy pulled his hand out of her grip and hissed, “dammit, ‘Chelle! I ain’t a kid! I can handle Hart just fine, and a stupid dinner ain’t gonna change anything!”

She huffed. “A dinner might not. But a dinner with _Hart_? You know you’re stupid when it comes to him, Eggsy. Don’t deny it.”

“Yeah, like you was stupid with _Dean_?” Eggsy paused when Michelle flinched, and he turned away and rubbed at his arm. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to bring the bastard up, but—“

“N-No. It’s… You’re right, anyway. I _was_ stupid with ‘im. Let myself get used and pushed around. The only good thing that came outta bein’ with that bastard was Daisy.” Michelle let out a shaky breath before facing Eggsy, her stare determined. “But I got over ‘im. I listened to ya and saw him for the monster that he was and told ‘im to take a hike. But you? You’re still arse over tits for that man, and I’m thinkin’ you won’t stop till ya drop dead. You’re never gonna stop lovin’ him, Eggs. And this ain’t gonna be _just a dinner_ to ya.”

“Of course it is. And it _will_ be.” Eggsy slapped his hands on his knees and stood up, leaning down to kiss Michelle on the cheek. “I gotta go. There’s this bakery in Soho that makes those _petit fours_ he likes. I’mma get him a box, or summat.”

Michelle sighed and shook her head, dragging a hand down her face. “This is a mistake, Eggs. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

“Yeah, a’right,” Eggsy said distractedly. He grabbed Scrambler and his briefcase. “I’mma say goodbye to Dais’ and head off. I’ll visit again soon, yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger, luv.” Michelle smiled.

Eggsy returned the smile and nodded. “I won’t.” 

* * *

It wasn’t like Eggsy didn’t know where Michelle was coming from. After all, she saw firsthand what Hart’s betrayal did to him, how it messed him up for months and had him thinking that blokes like him weren’t made for happily ever afters, no matter what progress the world made. He was so far down the spiral of agony that he even considered quitting Kingsman, but Michelle managed to pull him outta the pit of self-pity he’d dug himself in before he could make such a terrible mistake. He worked his arse off to get to where he was now, and hell if he was going to let his ex keep him from making something out of himself.

But she was being too paranoid about this. Surely a simple _dinner_ with the bloke wouldn’t be too bad. And Eggsy really  _did_ feel bad about yelling at Hart and shoving him. Eugh, he felt like a prick.

 _‘I’m an idjit,’_ he told himself, pouting a little as he stood in front of a cake display case. The woman behind the counter had already asked him three times if he had made up his mind, and he was already feeling so embarrassed that he was tempted to just leave. But this store had Hart’s favorite tart, the colorful _petit fours_ currently sitting prettily inside the case. And the marzipan figs weren’t looking too bad either.

( _“The fuck is that,” Eggsy asked, once upon a time._

_“It’s a fig. A marzipan fig,” Harry replied, his arm brushing subtly against Eggsy’s as they stood in front of the display._

_“Even sounds rank.” Eggsy pressed his face against the case and frowned. He nodded to himself a few moments after and faced Harry. “Ya know what? I’ll eat one. Just ‘cause I’m morbidly curious.”_

_Harry’s smile could pass for the rising sun. “I’m sure you’ll find yourself pleasantly surprised, my dear.”)_

“Did you find anything you like, sir?” asked the lady the fourth time, still beaming sunnily at him as if he hadn’t been making her wait for half an hour already.

He sighed and nodded, taking out his shiny new wallet and pointing at the _petit fours_ in the case. “I’ll take six of those, please. And maybe two of those marzipan figs.”

“For here, or?” she asked, making Eggsy think that she might be a bit daft after all.

“To go. And make that three figs,” he amended, watching as the lady nodded and pulled out two boxes from the drawers. 

 _‘I’m an idjit,’_ he repeated to himself when he came out of the store with two boxes in his arms. Scrambler had the misfortune of being tucked under his armpit, while he carried the briefcase between his fingers. He waddled to the nearest bus terminal so he could sit down.

He pulled out his phone and opened a secret app. Roxy—that is, Morgana—designed an app that was pretty much like Uber but for Kingsman, and he contacted the nearest Kingsman cabbie to pick him up. Normally Eggsy would just walk back to Hart’s house, but even _he_ knew that was a bad idea—both for the pastries and for his knees. 

As he waited for _Manfred_ to roll by (4.8 stars, nice one, mate), his mind began to race with possible scenarios for tonight. What would Hart say when Eggsy arrived at the doorstep with apology tarts in his hands? Would he accept them graciously as he was wont to do, or would he turn Eggsy away, rumpled by Eggsy’s rudeness in the shop? Did he even make dinner, like he said he would—or, wait, shit, was dinner supposed to be at his house? Fuck, what was Eggsy even _doing_ , trying to apologize to the wanker in the first place?

 _‘Idjit.’_ He looked down at the boxes on his lap and pulled them close. A few moments later, his phone beeped and informed him that Manfred had arrived, and Eggsy spent another thirty minutes wondering if he was going to make an arse of himself in front of Hart or an empty home.

 _‘Either way, I’m still an idjit,’_ he mourned.

Pretty soon, Manfred dropped him off to his doom: a lit house in Stanhope Mews. He cursed when he realized that his humiliation was going to have an audience, but he steeled himself for what was to come. Not like this was the first time he made a fool of himself in front of Hart. It would be like old times, even. Maybe they could laugh about it later.

He thanked Manfred and gave him five stars for the trip. He didn’t really understand what the whole rating system was even for; either Kingsman drivers were good (loyal) or they weren’t (eeeeviiiil). Roxy kept telling him it was for the app to appear normal in case people accidentally glanced at his phone while he was using it, but Eggsy wondered.

Phone tucked in his pocket, Eggsy carried his things and the desserts towards Hart’s house. He stood on the doorstep and set Scrambler and his briefcase down so he could ring the doorbell. His heart beat wildly against his chest as he listened to some bustling in the house. 

Was it too late to hide in Hart’s rose bushes and pretend tonight never happened? Ha. Ha, ha.

“Eggsy?” Hart opened the door, and God Almighty, he was wearing that stupid Hello Kitty apron Eggsy got him from Japan for April Fools in 2001. He was also wearing a ridiculously confused face, which shouldn’t have looked so damn attractive on a serious man like Hart. “Do you not have a key? I recall leaving a spare set on your desk this morning.”

Eggsy opened his mouth to retort, but then realized that no, he _didn’t_ have a key, and boy, wouldn’t it have been just _awful_ if Hart really _hadn’t_ been at home, and Eggsy had no choice but to wait at the doorstep with melting desserts on his lap for who knows how long? Eggsy didn’t have to be a psychic to know that would’ve ended in another row. Thank God for small miracles, then.

“I forgot it,” he said, fingers tapping on the side of the boxes. The sound drew Hart’s attention to them, and he cleared his throat and offered the boxes to the still-confused agent. “Here. For you.”

“For me?” Hart clarified. His eyes seemed to twinkle as he blinked, inspecting the box side to side. He saw the shop logo and startled. “This is—“

“Your favorite tarts. From _Maison Berteux_. Yeah.” Eggsy scratched his nape and cleared his throat again. “I, uh, kinda realized I was a bit of an idjit back there. At the shop, I mean. You was just tryin’ to be a good host, and I yelled at ya ‘cause I was bein’defensive and presumptuous. Didn’t mean to shove ya either. 

“So this is me. Sayin’ sorry. For bein’ an idjit.” Eggsy finished, wincing a little because _damn_ , how much of a twat did he sound just now? Maybe he _should_ hide in those bushes.

When he looked up, Hart was staring at him with a slacked mouth and glittering eyes. Eggsy blushed and ducked quickly to get his things, edging around the frozen man to skirt past him. “W-Well, that’s that, I s’pose. Don’t worry ‘bout feedin’ me or anythin’, ‘cause I ain’t hungry and if ya already ate out that’s fine—“

“Actually, I made dinner,” Hart said just as he was about to race up the stairs. When Eggsy turned, Hart’s eyes were still twinkling. “And I made something for you, as well. I’d be happy if you could sit down and eat a bit.”

Eggsy swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Hart’s smile was blinding as he closed the door. “You made it just in time to enjoy it while it’s still hot. Would you like to change, or?”

“Oh, uh.” Eggsy looked down at his suit, then at Hart. Under the apron, Hart was still wearing his white shit and charcoal grey trousers. A moment later, he shrugged. “I guess? I mean, I suppose I could take off my jacket. And I still have that jumper from last night.”

Hart scoffed a little and said, “I procured you a few sets of sleep clothes while you’re here. You’ll find them in your closet.”

“Sleep clothes,” Eggsy repeated, unable to hold back a small smile. He put one hand on his hip, and another on the handrail. “Better be Victorian-style, them sleep clothes. Regency’s fine but I’m more into the whole gothic vibe, yeah?”

Hart rolled his eyes a bit. “Technically they were called nightclothes. Unfortunately, I merely got you basic pajama sets and a robe.”

“Aww,” Eggsy said, puffing his cheeks. “I wanted to get my Lestat on.”

A pause. “Anne Rice is not a Victorian author, Eggsy.” 

A shrug. “Don’t mean her vampires ain’t.”

Hart sighed and nodded. “Very well. Go and “get your Lestat on,” if you wish. I’ll set the table.”

“A’right,” Eggsy said. He turned and walked up the stairs, oddly excited. When he got to his room, he hit himself on the face with Scrambler and berated himself for being such an idiot. Dinner with Hart was just that: _dinner_. It ain’t a date, and Eggsy wasn’t going to treat it like one. Swear down.

(Harry watched as Eggsy ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, before looking down at the boxes in his arms. His cheeks plumped as he smiled, and he cradled the boxes all the way to the kitchen.

He should get the nice plates out. This was a special occasion, and Eggsy always did like the festive plates.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typhoon Mangkhut was fucking awful, man, and the only good that came out of it was the free time I suddenly had. So here ya go, the fourth chapter to this... whatever this is. I swear this is starting to develop a plot now and I'm sc aRE D because y'all know what happens to my fics when they develop plots.
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos! More love to oldies Hartwin XD
> 
> edit: dear god I made [fanart](http://prodigal-san.tumblr.com/post/178285864074/so-im-currently-writing-this-same-ageau-hartwin) :((


	5. Fuck You, Feelings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I died :)))

_September 12, 1999_

_It was official. After six months of gruelling training, endless studying, and resisting the urge to bash the other recruits’ faces in, Eggsy had finally become a Kingsman agent. He would have started tearing up if he hadn’t already been crying—having to “shoot” J.B. was the most traumatic experience he had ever had, and he was going to slap Harry silly for making him go through such a shitty test. Who the fuck tested loyalty by making people shoot their dogs? Rich, crazy bastards._

_But in the end, he trusted Harry. Trusted that the git wouldn’t do any harm to the ugly little thing, because he was just as besotted with J.B as Eggsy was. And he was right to have done so, for now Eggsy has a chance to make something out of himself, to prove to the world that he was more than just a dirty little faggot._

_He left Arthur’s office with a huge smile and a new codename, not even minding the sour look on Chester King’s face when he passed him by the hall. Bet the prejudiced prick never expected him to end up taking the slot!_

_(Harry greeted him at the foot of the stairs, proud smile and twinkling eyes adorning his perfect face. Eggsy grinned and hopped down the last step to leap in his arms, and the hall was filled with sunbeams and exuberant laughter.)_

_Now three days later, Eggsy was going to get his first mission, and boy was he like a kid in a candy store, knees barely able to keep still as Merlin took over the briefing. Harry’s hand ventured beneath the table to keep his knee still, his face betraying nothing. Eggsy made sure not to react to the warm hand squeezing his knee, but with the way Arthur frowned at them, Eggsy supposed they weren’t as subtle as they tried to be._

_After the brief, three agents were sent off: Harry—that is, Galahad—had to prepare to leave for Mumbai, where a child trafficking syndicate had been known to operate. Lancelot, who was a vaguely annoying bloke named James, left immediately, as his mission in France was time sensitive and needed care._

_Eggsy, who proudly bore the name Gareth, was assigned a reconnaissance mission in Berlin, where a notorious arms dealer was suspected to make an illegal transaction with an unknown, but dangerous entity. For Kingsman to not know who the buyer was meant trouble, and Eggsy shook with anticipation on his way to R &D. Merlin told him to introduce himself to Morgana, who was going to be in charge of handling him for the mission._

_(“Aww,” Eggsy had said, pouting at Merlin. “I don’t get you?”_

_Merlin had rolled his eyes at him. “As if I want to handle a green agent on his first mission. I’m going to lose all my hair if I handled you.”_

_“Not much of it is left though, is there?” Eggsy had jumped away before Merlin could poke him with the edge of his clipboard. He latched on to a sighing Harry and blew a raspberry at the quartermaster._

_“Wanker!”)_

_He entered the department and grinned at the present handlers, asking where this “Morgana” person was. A vaguely familiar voice greeted him from behind, and his grin fell at the sight of the petite woman who, upon seeing his reaction, gave a small smirk of her own._

_Eggsy pointed a finger at her. “You!”_

_“Hello, Eggsy. Or should I say, ‘Gareth’?” Roxanne Morton, the candidate who had “drowned” during the first test, was standing in front of him, dressed smartly though not as formally as Eggsy. She leaned against one of the desks in the department and said, “allow me to extend my congratulations, and also my thanks. I knew you’d be able to get the job, and now Merlin owes me two hundred pounds. I’ll take you out to get a pint after your mission’s done.”_

_“Forget a pint, luv, you owe me some of me sanity back!” Eggsy yelled. “I couldn’t sleep properly for days after you “died.” Are you sayin’ that it was all just some test?”_

_“Yes?” Roxy raised a brow at him, lips quirked up. “The point of the test was to determine your problem solving skills, as well as to measure the group’s teamwork. Thanks a lot for letting me drown, by the way.”_

_“Shit, don’t even joke about that,” Eggsy said seriously, frowning. He looked down at his shoes. “I always thought if I could turn back time, I’d go back and save you. You deserved a shot at bein’ Gareth, and those wankers lookin’ down on you ‘cause you was a girl—“_

_“It’s fine, Eggsy,” Roxy interjected gently, her eyes softening. “And I’m sorry for lying to you all this time. I would have revealed myself to you if I could.”_

_Eggsy sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, all right, I believe you. It just sucked, ya know. You were the only other recruit I liked. I was lookin’ forward to havin’ a friend, even if you was competition.”_

_“Aww, aren’t you sweet?” Roxy reached out to pinch his cheeks, ignoring his grumbling protests. “Don’t worry, Eggsy, we can still be friends. And I get the feeling that you and I will be friends for a long time.”_

_“If I live long enough. Kingsman agents have a high mortality rate, don’t they?” Eggsy joked, though he went a little pale at the thought._

_Roxy smirked. “As long as I’m your handler, Eggsy, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”_

* * *

“I can’t believe you never texted me,” Roxy said on loudspeaker while Eggsy was inspecting his new toys from the R&D department. “Your house just blew up into smithereens, and you never texted me or anything. What the fuck, Unwin?”

Eggsy winced, glancing at the phone on the bed. He sighed and flopped down next to it. “Sorry, luv. Would’ve called you as soon as I was able, but you see—“

“Your brain imploded when Arthur ordered you to stay with him in the meantime. Yeah, I get it,” Roxy cut him off with a scoff.

Eggsy shifted on his side to glare at the phone. “My brain did _not_ implode, ta! I just—I just didn’t expect the wanker to even suggest it, considering our history an’ all.”

“I’m more surprised that _you_ went along with it, actually,” Roxy said quietly. “What were your exact words, again? Oh, yes: you’d rather choke on Chester King’s four-inch prick than be in the same room as Harry Hart _ever again_. Would you like me to dig up the old codger’s corpse, then, or?”

“Believe me, Rox, I was _very_ against it. Would’ve dug up the traitor meself and swallowed his zombie prick in front of Hart just to illustrate how _very against it_ I was.”

“Fuck, Eggsy, you’re disgusting—“

“And I _did_ suggest alternatives! Wanted to stay at a hotel at first.” Eggsy lied down on his back again and sighed, staring at the ceiling. “But now that I think about it, staying at a hotel is a much bigger risk, innit? With all those guests an’ all. We still haven’t determined whether me house was really sabotaged or not, and fucking ex or not, staying with Hart seems the safest option for now.”

“It’s nice to hear you talking sense for once,” Roxy quipped, chuckling when Eggsy made a low growling noise.

“Oi! I can talk sense,” Eggsy protested weakly.

“Mm, but not when concerning Harry Hart,” Roxy said. When Eggsy didn’t give a reply immediately, Roxy sighed. “Eggsy—“

“I know what you’s gonna say.” Eggsy sat up and grabbed his ankles to ground himself. “That I’m an idiot for letting it go on this long, that I should’ve just moved on with my life and treated Hart like every other bloke who broke me heart. I know that, Rox. I know it, and—“

“You can’t do it,” Roxy cut him off. “You tried, but you can’t. Not when he’s made a home in your heart.”

Eggsy scoffed. “Some home it is. All beat up and used. Dunno why he lingers, why he’s still such a sore spot.”

“It’s because you still love him. Idiot.” Scratchy static filled the air as Roxy sighed. After a beat of silence, she added, “I’ll be home from Berlin soon. The new tech we’re developing for the Kingsman glasses is turning out great, it seems. You’ll be able to recognize hostiles within rooms based on their heat signatures.”

Eggsy perked up and whistled. “That’s _aces_. Would help a lot, just in case the comms go on a fritz.”

“Exactly. So hold up for a bit before I get back, all right?” Roxy requested. “I’ll bring home some sweets. I know you love them.”

“Maybe if I get fat an’ ugly Hart will leave me alone,” Eggsy responded, nodding. His finger hovers above the end call button. “Sleep tight, Rox. And do say hi to your new sweetling for me.”

“Her name’s Diana, and never say _sweetling_ ever again.”

“No promises! Night, Rox.”

“Arse. Good night, Eggsy.”

Eggsy tapped the end button after another round of goodbyes, and he settled back on the bed with a long sigh. He waited a few moments before shooting off the bed and taking off his dress shirt, and he was halfway down when a set of knocks halted his movements.

He approached the door and opened it slowly, and Hart began to speak before Eggsy could even see him. “Eggsy, what would you like for breakfast? I know you like pancakes, but I don’t have the blueberries you like and—“

“And?” Eggsy prompted after Hart trailed off. He leaned his head against the door.

Hart’s eyes darted between his face and chest. Instantly, Eggsy understood what had caused Hart to go silent and blushed. Hart cleared his throat and kept his gaze on Eggsy’s face. “And there might not be any at the nearby mart. I suppose we can have eggs—“

“Scrambled?” Eggsy asked.

Hart paused before nodding.“Yes. Scrambled, with mushrooms and tomatoes added in. Just the way you like it.”

“No onions, though.”

“No, not a single slice. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Not in your eggs, though.” Eggsy braved a small smile as he stared into nothing, clattering pans and peals of laughter echoing in his ears. “You like onions in yours.”

“Spinach, too,” Hart murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting minutely.

“Yeah. You like spinach.” Eggsy scoffed, shaking his head. “Weirdo.”

Eggsy didn’t know how long they spent just standing there: Hart in the hallway, and Eggsy in the guest room. The set-up seemed so strangely familiar to Eggsy, and it took a while for him to realize why: it was the exact same scene from all those years ago that made Eggsy realize just how madly in love with Hart he was.

And years later, even after Hart hurt him beyond forgiveness, it was still true. 

God, he was so pathetic.

Eggsy broke eye contact with Hart and retreated back into the room. “Well, I suppose it’s g’night, then.”

“Yes.” Hart sounded disappointed, and Eggsy wanted to punch him for fucking up his feelings like this. He took a step back into the hall and inclined his head. “Good night, Eggsy.”

“Yeah, night,” Eggsy said shortly before closing the door on Hart’s face. He stared at the door for a moment before shaking his head and changing into his new pajamas. It had been a long day, and the sooner he could end it, the better.

(Harry stood in front of Eggsy’s room. He stood there for a long time.)

* * *

“You’re still alive,” Alistair said in lieu of greeting when he walked into the shop. 

Eggsy didn’t bother looking up from the shirts he was folding when he greeted back. “Nice to see you back too, you bloody sod. How was Peru?”

Alistair shrugged and leaned against the table Eggsy was using. “Same, same. It would be nice to have an exciting assignment for once; keeping tabs on growing drug cartels gets old fast, especially if there’s no intel to collect.”

Eggsy scoffed. “Boring assignments mean the world ain’t as fucked up as before, innit? It hasn’t been long since V-Day; not many nefarious villain types are brave enough to restart the cycle of good versus evil yet.”

“Nefarious,” Alistair echoed, chuckling and crossing his arms. “Someone’s been reading more advanced literature.”

Eggsy hit his arm, grinning when he elicited a yelp. “Nah, no literature. Just spending too much time with public school snobs like you.”

“Well, it seems to have raised your IQ a bit, so I suppose it’s not an entirely bad thing.” Alistair dodged another punch to his arm. “Speaking of spending time, I heard from James that you and Harry are—“

“What’s all this, then?” 

Eggsy and Alistair turned to see Hart descending the stairs: brow raised, posture stiff. Eggsy ignored how fucking fantastic his legs looked in light gray and instead focused on why Hart looked so bloody irate when he had been smiling like a loon during breakfast this morning.

Eggsy ducked his head to hide his blush. Hart had prepared him eggs the way he liked, and it blew Eggsy’s fucking mind that Hart still had such an effect on him. Sixteen years of separation did nothing to make Hart forget, it seemed. At least where eggs were concerned.

 _‘Fuck you, Hart,’_ he hissed vehemently in his head. _‘Fuck you for fucking with my feelings.’_

“Arthur,” greeted Alistair, drawing Eggsy from his thoughts. The other agent glanced at him briefly before saying, “Gareth and I were just having a chat.”

“A chat, you say?” Hart echoed, looking between him and Alistair. His eyes narrowed as they settled on the older agent. “When it is protocol to have a debriefing right after you arrive from a mission?”

Alistair blinked. “Sir—“

“Rules are in place for a reason, Percival. Agents shouldn’t dawdle after a mission, as sensitive information should be relayed and archived immediately. I expected more from you.”

“Oi,” Eggsy piped up then, his brows furrowing. “Percival ain’t dawdling or anythin’. He just saw me ‘ere, is all. He would’a gone to you or Merl immediately after, I bet.”

“Yes,” Alistair confirmed, nodding. “I had also heard that Gareth’s house had blown up. I merely wanted to ask him how he’s faring.”

“See?” Eggsy said. “He’s just bein’ a mate. Nothin’ in the rules says anythin’ about that, yeah?”

And there it was: a tell in Hart’s body language that Eggsy learned years ago, one that let Eggsy know that he was close to losing his shit. Hart’s left eye would twitch, and right after his jaw would clench. In a few moments his right hand would curl into a ball and then—

Eggsy stood in front of Alistair in a flash, who was probably eyeing Eggsy a little strangely, but Eggsy was too focused on Hart to really notice.

“Oi, what’s gotten into you?” Eggsy asked. 

Hart faltered, and the tells disappeared in wake of a well-practiced mask. He glanced at Alistair and sighed, inclining his head in what seemed to be a reluctant apology.

Eggsy blinked. The fuck?

“I am not against agents forming friendships, of course. That would be completely hypocritical of me.” Hart paused. “Regardless, Percival should have been aware of protocol. Everything else comes second to Kingsman. We all know this.”

The last part was said quietly, but Eggsy heard it anyway. He clenched his fists as Hart bid them goodbye, his eyes lingering a bit too long on Alistair. When Hart disappeared back up the stairs, Eggsy let out a huff of air and turned to the other agent.

“Alistair, mate, sorry ‘bout that—“

“He was jealous.”

Eggsy paused. “Wot?”

Alistair sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “I said, Arthur was jealous just now. It’s quite obvious, given the way he was antagonistic to me for seemingly no reason. And FYI, that rule on debriefing protocol is shite. Not even King enforced that rule so strictly.”

“Wait, wot?” Eggsy shook his head and waved his hands in the air. “Hold up, Perce, I’m still trying to understand what you first said. Whaddya mean Arthur was jealous?”

“I meant it as I meant it: he was jealous. Covetous. _Green-eyed_. Need I say more?”

“Huh?” Eggsy made a face. “But—But _why_?”

“Why else would anyone be jealous?” Alistair raised a brow at him. “He saw you having a pleasant conversation with me and envied me for it. It’s not hard to understand.”

A beat of silence. And then: “Huh?”

“Why on earth are you so surprised? Have you seriously been unaware of his jealousy all this time?” It was Alistair’s turn to make a face.

Eggsy faltered and thought about it. _Really_ thought about it. “But... But I never seen ‘im do that before—“

“That’s probably because you were too busy either ignoring him or actively avoiding being in the same room as him for the past sixteen years. Aside from debriefings and table meetings, of course,” Alistair supplied. “To be honest, it’s always hilarious to watch. Especially when it’s directed at Bors, the flirt. But, hm, it’s not quite as amusing being the focus of that jealousy. We should probably take more care in hiding our love from now on, Gareth.”

“Oi!” Eggsy hit him on the chest, though he was smiling a bit. “That’s bollocks. Hart has no reason to be jealous of you. You and James’ve been together for years.”

“Yes, true. And it’s not I he should be jealous of.” Alistair had a wicked gleam in his eyes when he smirked. “I don’t suppose he knows that you and Hamish had a brief fling post your break-up, hm?”

“I told you to never mention that, ever!” Eggsy hissed, swatting him repeatedly on the arm. “Not even James knows about that! And you wouldn’t have either, if you didn’t walk in on us that day!”

“And that is why I never look at Merlin’s desk the same way since then.” Alistair lamented. With a sigh, he patted Eggsy on the shoulder twice before passing him by. “Well, I’ll debrief with Arthur now. Has there been any progress on the investigation regarding your house’s explosion?”

“Not yet,” Eggsy said, sighing. “Though there’s gonna be a table meeting about it. If it’s indeed a sabotage, who knows who else can fall victim to it?”

“I see.” Alistair nodded, walking towards the stairs. “I’ll see you later, then. Do let me know if anything comes up.”

“Will do,” Eggsy said. After Alistair disappeared up the stairs, he sagged against the table and ran a hand through his hair.

Harry Hart, jealous of Alistair? Because of _him_? Ha, nice try! Eggsy might have been ignoring his boss’s existence outside of work, but he would have caught on that if it were really happening. He was a spy, for fuck’s sake! Give him some credit. 

 _‘Perce was obviously fucking with me. He never got over seeing me bent over Merlin’s desk,’_ he thought, blushing at the memory. While it wasn’t their proudest moment, that affair, it had been what the two of them needed at the time. Merlin had broken up with Roxy a month before Eggsy ended things with Hart, and one cold night of drinking themselves silly had escalated and _boom_.

But unlike Eggsy, Merlin had eventually moved on from his break-up, and even became friends with Roxy again. Eggsy couldn’t even look at Hart in the eye without wanting to punch him or snog him. Maybe both.

Eggsy sighed. Things were going so well before; Eggsy was learning to ignore Hart completely, even if he couldn’t entirely forget him. But because of a fucking gas leak, the feelings he kept locked up deep in the dark corners of his heart had sprung out, going on repeat like that annoyingly appropriate Celine Dion song. It was all coming back to him, and he had no power to stop it.

 _‘Fucking feelings,’_ he thought as he went back to folding shirts. He growled and threw a shirt on the floor when he couldn’t do it right this time. _‘Fucking fuck, fuck.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm hoping you guys remember this story xD the plot is progressing well, which is good, but I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this up. I was making merch for cons the past few months and well OTL 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around xD will do my best to update more frequently! Kudos and comments will always be appreciated aaaa <3


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